


The Wrong Sin

by amythis



Series: Margaret And Somehow Hawkeye [1]
Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: Bisexual Hawkeye Pierce, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-11
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-07 19:45:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8813905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amythis/pseuds/amythis
Summary: Margaret's pregnancy scare causes some rethinking.





	1. Life and Death

"You look like you could use a martini. I mean more than usual." B.J. held out the glass.

Hawkeye nodded and took it. "Thanks." He downed the drink quickly and then handed the glass back. 

"You want to talk about it?"

Hawkeye hesitated, but who better to talk to about this? He nodded again and sat next to B.J. on the bunk.

"Ooo, confidential, huh?"

"Yeah," Hawkeye whispered. He knew Beej would drop the joking tone as soon as he heard.

"Well?" B.J. whispered.

Hawkeye knew he might as well say it straight out. Charles had the night shift, but he might come back early for some reason. "Margaret's pregnant!"

B.J. stared at him. "You mean—? Oh, no, Hawk!"

Hawkeye shook his head. "No, it's not mine."

"How can you be sure?"

"I'm just sure, OK?"

"OK. So it's a little Penobscott, right?"

"Yeah."

"So, what's the problem?"

Now Hawkeye stared at B.J. "What's the problem?" It was hard to keep to a whisper. "Number one, they're not too happily married."

"Well, maybe a baby will bring them together."

He ignored that. "Number two, it would mean she'd have to give up the Army."

"Ah. But what do you care? You're not exactly a recruiter."

"No, I'm not. It's just—"

"What, Hawk?"

Hawkeye sighed. "OK, you know that Margaret and I would never work as a couple."

"I don't know that. But I know you think that. So you should be happy that she's leaving the Army and there won't be all this awkwardness between you two."

"There's not any awkwardness anymore. We talked it out."

"Sure, Hawk."

Hawkeye shook his head.

"And you should be glad that her marriage might be strengthened."

"You don't get it, do you?"

"Apparently not."

"I know this is crazy, but I wish I were the one who got her pregnant."

"That is crazy."

"Tell me about it. But when she told me, my first reaction was—"

"Was what?"

"I was thrilled! Like you probably were when Peg told you. And then it hits me. It's not mine."

B.J. bit his lip before speaking. "Was there a possibility that it was? Is it that the timing doesn't work out?"

"No, I, I took precautions. I always do."

"Which explains why there aren't lots of little Hawkeyes running around."

"Yeah."

"Did you want to knock her up?"

"Beej!"

"I mean at the time."

"No, of course not! All I could think about was we were probably going to die and she was the only good thing in the situation. And I don't mean, 'Well, I may as well die with a smile on my face.' It was just, 'Here's death over there, and here's life over here.' "

"But you didn't think, 'Hey, maybe we can make a new life'?"

"Of course not. I didn't expect us to live through the night, but I didn't want there to be consequences if we did. Well, extra consequences."

"And you managed to whip out a condom at a moment like that?"

"Uh, no."

_"Margaret, I'm gonna, I'm gonna come!"_

_"Yes, Hawkeye, come in me, please!"_

_"I can't, I can't— I've gotta pull out!"_

_"No! Stay!_

_"We can't— What if—? I can't believe we're arguing at a time like this!"_

_"Hawkeye!"_

_He'd tried to ignore her pleading tone and her clenching vagina. ___

"Hawk?"

B.J.'s impatient whisper pulled him out of the memory more easily than he'd pulled out of Margaret.

"I, well, I guess you could say I committed the Sin of Onan."

"You jerked off?"

Hawkeye rolled his eyes. "You want me to bring Father Mulcahy in to explain it?"

"Oh, that Sin of Onan."

"Yep. I literally spilled my seed on the ground."

"To prevent a crop of Pierces on Penobscott soil."

"Yeah, you can look at it that way."

"You realize that coitus interruptus still counts as adultery."

"Yeah, I figured we were about to break a Commandment when we started necking. But you know, with the North Koreans about to break the sixth Commandment, the seventh didn't seem quite so important."

"So now you're having regrets that she's pregnant with someone else's baby?"

"No, not regrets. It's just, well, I had to be the sensible one."

"There's a sentence I don't hear you say every day."

"Yeah, especially at a moment like that. But I had to do something. It was not the moment to, as you so poetically put it, knock up a superior officer."

"A married superior officer."

"Yeah. And now, I don't know, am I jealous?"

"I don't know, Hawk. Do you want kids?"

"Yeah, maybe someday. When all this craziness is over. I mean the War, not me and Margaret."

"Got it."

"And she gives me her news. Not because I'm the father but because I'm her worst enemy and probably best friend. And I was happy. You know, life in the middle of death."

"Yeah."

"And now I've got to kill Radar's rabbit!"

"Poor Fluffy. And poor Hawk."

It was dark, especially once B.J. extinguished the lamp. Then his arms went around his best friend, letting Hawkeye cry quietly on his shoulder. It wasn't the first time. It wouldn't be the last.


	2. Memories

Meanwhile, in her tent, Margaret let herself fully remember that crazy night for the first time. She didn't start at the beginning, because that would've been the first week she met him, when she thought it was such a waste: talented surgeon's hands linked to a smart mouth. She didn't even dwell on what had led up to the encounter, taking refuge in the hut and sharing the letter her husband meant to send to someone else.

Hawkeye held her as the bombs fell. They yelled in protest, not caring if it would give away that the hut was occupied, not caring that they couldn't stop anything. And their mouths met, and all they wanted to do was join them.

Looking back, she knew they were feeling the same things, at least at that point. So Hawkeye must've felt that same combination of surprise and inevitability. But it wasn't a moment to analyze. They could be dead any moment, so they had to live while they could.

Now she could wonder how much of it was the situation, what she would've felt with any attractive man, and how much had to do with Hawkeye himself. At the time, there were no such distinctions.

Before she knew it, she was lying on the dirt floor, with Hawkeye on top of her. Their kissing had turned into necking, and she could feel his erection through their clothes. This was not how she used to picture it. It was even less romantic than the supply tent, where he'd taken so many of her nurses. She used to like to imagine it happening in her tent, but of course there was nowhere in camp where no one would've found out about it. Well, they had privacy in the hut, no one around for miles, except the people who wanted to kill them.  


"How's your leg?" she suddenly asked, remembering his injury.

"Doesn't matter right now," he panted.

She parted her own legs, hoping he'd be more comfortable. Not that this was very comfortable for her, but as he said, it didn't matter. Too much else, too much more important, was going on.

"Oh, Margaret," he sighed, and started thrusting between her legs. They were still fully clothed, but it was intense. She clutched him with her arms and legs. His body was both protection and challenge.

Of course she thought of Donald. She didn't think of this as revenge cheating. She was sure she'd regret it if she lived to see morning. Even if she'd been single, it would've been crazy to get involved with Hawkeye. But as Hawkeye himself would've said, sometimes you have to go a little crazy to keep from going crazy.

He seemed startled when she slipped her hand between their stomachs, even more so when she started fumbling with his belt.

"Are you sure?"

"Dammit, Hawkeye, don't question it right now!" she snapped.

"Is that a command from my superior officer?"

It was a flash of the usual flirtatious, bantering Hawkeye. So she responded in kind. "Seek immediate shelter, Captain."

He sat up and saluted her. "Yes, ma'am!"

She found herself giggling, which made him grin. And then they undid their own trousers enough to lower their underwear enough for him to enter her when he mounted her again.

There was no more bantering, hardly any words. Sometimes their eyes met and hers tried to tell his how wonderful it felt to connect their bodies at last. His eyes seemed to be saying something similar, but looking back five weeks later, she realized that just because his were blue, too, it didn't mean they spoke the same language.

And meanwhile the bombs kept falling. This could be the last time either of them would have sex, would do anything. She wouldn't have chosen these circumstances, but she was glad Hawkeye might be her last man. Better him than Donald.

Hawkeye kept pumping into her, and her vagina shaped itself to fit him, as it had shaped itself for Donald, Frank, and the rest. Sometimes she'd shaped her whole self for men. Who would she become for Hawkeye?

When he told her he was reaching orgasm, it felt too soon. Not just because she hadn't reached it but because she felt like they were only starting to get to know each other this way. Well, if they lived through that night, maybe there'd be other chances.

Then he said he wanted to pull out. She felt rejected. She wanted to feel him come in her. But he insisted. So he wrenched himself away. Well, he was still partially lying on top of her when she heard him gasp, "OH GOD!!" Then he gently kissed her cheek and said, "I didn't want to complicate your marital situation."

It took her a moment to understand. Yes, she did view a man coming inside her as more serious than one pulling out, but she doubted Donald would make that sort of distinction. Then she realized that Hawkeye hadn't wanted to get her pregnant. She hadn't given it any thought. But she remembered then that her diaphragm was sitting in her tent, unused since her visit to Donald in Tokyo the week before.

And now, five weeks after that realization, she knew that coitus interruptus had proved to be a more reliable method than the modern device. Part of her wished it was Hawkeye's baby instead, crazy as that was. Donald would've been furious, and Hawkeye would've been a lot less ecstatic than he was as a not so innocent bystander. A miracle that might tie him down wouldn't be as wonderful. And whoever the father, the mother would still have to leave the Army.

She shook her head, wanting to get lost in the memory of that night again.

She'd thanked him for being considerate. He nodded and then he sat up and gathered her into his arms. They didn't talk again until he said, "Do you hear that?"

"What?" Was the enemy approaching on foot?

"That silence. That beautiful silence."

"Yes," she murmured, snuggling closer. "Do you think they're through?"

"I certainly hope so."

"Me, too."

"You weren't, were you?"

"It's OK. I don't always finish."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

She shrugged. "I still enjoyed it."

"But not as much as you could've."

"Despite these deluxe accommodations."

He laughed. "Yeah." He kissed her hair. "Sorry there was no foreplay. I'm usually a more considerate lover."

She almost said, "Maybe next time," but would there be a next time? Despite the word "lover," she didn't want to make assumptions. So she just said, "It's all right."

"You sure?" he whispered in her ear, as his hand wandered between her legs.

"Yes, Hawkeye," she sighed. "I mean, yes, it's all right, but that feels really good."

"Better late than never," he said, and she wondered if he meant the afterplay or their getting together after all this time.

As his sensitive, precise surgeon's fingers pleasured her, she did her best to keep her voice down. This was definitely not how she'd want the enemy to discover them.

"Oh, Hawkeye!"

"Mmm, Hot Lips," he whispered, and then kissed her mouth before she could ask him exactly what he meant by her discarded nickname.

He gave her his glib tongue to suck and she found herself imagining other activities that would not risk pregnancy.

When the orgasm came, it was slow and rolling, like they had all the time in the world.

"Thank you, Hawkeye."

"Thank you, Hot— Margaret."

And then they'd pulled up their own underwear and trousers, before falling asleep sitting up, in each other's arms.

Long before she got to the end of the memory, Margaret had reached for one of what Frank used to call her Tokyo toys, although they weren't all from Japan. Not for the first time, this dildo played the roles of Hawkeye's sensitive hand, hard penis, and glib tongue.

Afterwards, after the memory, after the release, she thought of how Donald wouldn't like even a rubber rival. If the rabbit test was positive, she'd leave the Army and be a good, loyal wife, whether or not Donald kept his side of the bargain. And the child would have to be put first. Hawkeye would become just a memory.


	3. Cold Showers in Hell

As soon as Hawkeye fell asleep, in his own bed, B.J. slipped out into the night to take a cold shower. He knew Hawkeye would understand, although it wasn't something that they ever directly talked about. The closest they got was the time B.J. said, "Don't feel you have to kiss and tell," and Hawkeye had replied, "I know. You're not living vicariously through me."

He was and he wasn't. B.J. would never have traded what he had with Peg for what Hawkeye had with all these nurses and other women. But he didn't have Peg here and he did envy Hawkeye sometimes. This thing with Margaret, well, it was complicated, even for a not so innocent bystander like B.J.

And the thing with B.J. himself? That was complicated, too.

"You set the rules," Hawkeye had told him, but not right away. At first, B.J., who was a clean-cut, 28-year-old, 100% faithful married man, hadn't been sure how serious Hawkeye was when he flirted. B.J. flirted back, enjoying the novelty and, he assumed, harmlessness, in this kind of fun. It was only gradually that he realized that Hawkeye had had some kind of, for lack of a better term, romantic relationship with the legendary Trapper John.

"I'm not Trapper," B.J. had said after the first time Hawkeye kissed him.

"You don't have to be. You set the rules."

What Hawk meant, B.J. discovered, was that, yes, there were similarities. Trapper was 6'3" and mischievous, with a wife he adored and two little daughters rather than one. But his attitude towards "cheating" was nothing like B.J.'s. The nurses were for fun, release. He liked them but they were almost interchangeable. They were no threat to what he had back home. As for Hawkeye, well, he and Trapper were best buddies who earned their living sewing soldiers back together. What they did on their own in their off time, especially while drunk, was not a sin. And it wasn't cheating, because it was so different from his marriage.

This was secondhand, as Hawkeye explained it to B.J. Trapper had left without saying goodbye to Hawkeye, so B.J. had just missed meeting him. The one rule that Hawkeye set down was "You don't leave without saying goodbye. Whether you go by plane or angel's wings."

"How do you know I won't go to Hell?"

"This is Hell," Hawkeye said flatly, meaning the camp, Korea, the war. "The only way out is up."

B.J. had been here only six months but he was no longer so clean and shiny. A couple months ago, he'd fallen off the fidelity wagon with a nurse who was passing through. He hadn't loved Carrie Donovan, but it had been a physical betrayal of Peg. He'd wanted to tell Peg in a letter but Hawkeye had stopped him. And B.J. initiated a kiss with Hawkeye a week after that.

It wasn't that he thought, "Well, I've already sinned with a woman. I might as well sin with a man." As Hawkeye said, a kiss is just a kiss. And they loved each other, he and Hawk. Not in the way that Hawk and Trap had, but in their own way. It didn't feel like a betrayal of Peg. It was something else entirely.

So he set the rules. Kissing and cuddling and hugging. That was all. As for the emotions, well, it wasn't like he wanted to run off with Hawkeye. He just wanted to be connected somehow, some way, with him for the rest of their lives, if they lived through Hell.

It had seemed fitting that Hawkeye and Margaret, after all this time, got together, however briefly, because they thought they might die. Obviously, there were other factors, including her rocky marriage, but only the threat of death could've gotten those two crazy, headstrong kids to look past their differences.

It had been a bit of a shock tonight to hear that the sex hadn't been quite what B.J. imagined. And he had imagined it, sometimes in vivid detail during a solitary shower, and sometimes with just an awareness that it was there in the background, a secret for two shared by three. He was sure Margaret knew he knew. But clearly it wasn't something that they talked about. He doubted even she and Hawk talked about it anymore. But, yeah, B.J. and Hawk talked about it when they had to, like tonight.

B.J. couldn't fully take in that Margaret was pregnant and that Hawk, probably unbeknownst to her, wished he were the father. It wasn't that B.J. was jealous. He actually wanted the two of them to get together, although it would mean her divorcing Penobscott. She and Hawk both seemed to think they were too different, but as a quasi-outsider, B.J. could see how right they were together. Hawk made Margaret laugh, softened her, while she kept Hawk honest and on his toes. And B.J. loved them both.

He didn't love Margaret like he loved Hawkeye, neither in type nor intensity. Radar probably meant more to him as a person, like a kid brother. But B.J. admired Margaret and almost from the first had refused to believe she was as bad as Frank. Well, no one was as bad as Frank. Charles was an arrogant jerk sometimes, but you could reason with him.

And now Margaret might be leaving. While there was the side of B.J. that was happy to hear news of a baby, especially since Margaret was good with the Korean kids who came through the camp, he wasn't very happy about this baby. He'd told Hawk it might bring Margaret and Donald closer, but was that really something that anyone wanted, Donald included?

What if it had been Hawk's baby? Or what if she didn't know and there was at least the possibility of it? What would've happened? Divorce from Donald? Marriage to Hawkeye? And then what? She'd be sent back to the States to wait, so she and Hawkeye would have to say goodbye for now anyway. But then they'd have their whole future together, assuming Hawk lived through Hell.

As the cold water ran down B.J.'s body, he tried to imagine the 4077th without Margaret, tried to imagine Hawkeye without Margaret, but he couldn't. Even though people came and went, like Frank, like Trapper.

If Margaret left, B.J. would comfort Hawkeye, as they'd learn to comfort each other. But he didn't want to have to this time. He wanted her to stay.

As he washed his hair, he suddenly wondered what would happen if she was wrong. After all, it was early. It sounded like she was a month late at most. Maybe it was a false alarm and things could sort of go back to what they were before.

Or maybe Margaret could divorce Donald, who after all had cheated first, and then she could date Hawkeye. Or have a fling. Whatever made them happy.

B.J. played with himself as he imagined different scenarios for them. It was the one good part of solitary midnight cold showers in Hell.


	4. Unsaid

When Hawkeye woke up the morning after Margaret told him she was pregnant, he remembered waking up the morning after he didn't get her pregnant. The thoughts that went through his head then were, in order,  


1\. Birds.  
2\. I'm alive?  
3\. I'm here in the hut.  
4\. With Margaret.  
5\. Who I was— oh, right.

It was good to be alive, but now came the consequences. At first, she was very affectionate, calling him Darling and saying how much she loved his sense of humor. And it was a bit much. He hadn't thought of last night as leading to a future, but apparently she had. And he didn't know what to say to her. Especially not when there were still North Korean soldiers out there. One even came into the hut, so they hid, but he was wounded, so Hawkeye tried to treat him, under very primitive conditions.

He'd be practicing very different medicine today. He shook his head and got out of bed. He dressed and then went looking for Radar.

At first, Radar claimed he'd set Fluffy free, but as they talked, Hawkeye found himself promising that he'd try to extract Fluffy's ovaries without killing her. He'd never had to do anything like this in Crabapple Cove. But then there was a lot he'd never done before he got drafted.

Radar reluctantly handed over the rabbit he'd hidden in his jacket. Hawkeye went over to Margaret's tent and knocked.

"Merry Easter."

"Do you want some help?"

OK, she wasn't in the mood for jokes. He could understand that. She was very irritable, more than usual, because of her condition. He remembered her snapping at him after the lovey-doviness wore off, especially when they were at the 8063rd. He now thought of suggesting they do another demo in the future, lapine gynecological surgery, but he didn't want her biting his head off. So he just said, "Yeah, thank you."

They managed to perform the operation without anyone but a worried company clerk knowing. Well, Potter had given his permission, to spare Margaret having to go all the way to Tokyo to find out. And B.J. knew that this was the day of the rabbit test, although he didn't know that the rabbit wouldn't be dying.

After the extraction, Margaret wanted to run the test, but a patient with a gun caused a delay. The patient was holding Charles hostage and he made the three of them and Fluffy leave the hospital. Margaret seemed more worried about the specimen than about Charles, and Hawkeye couldn't entirely blame her. On the surface, Hawkeye had been calm all through this, but he was almost as eager to know the results as she was.

When Klinger heard that the patient wanted to go home to Ohio, he ended up being a willing exchanged hostage.

Margaret muttered, "I'm starting to feel sick again."

"Take it easy, Margaret. When all this is over, we'll go for a walk through the looking-glass."

She nodded. "Down the rabbit-hole."

B.J. must've overheard them, because a minute later, he whispered, "Did you and Alice—?"

"Not yet."

The soldier passed out, to Klinger's disappointment. Hawkeye and B.J. took him to the O.R. Margaret went with them.

"You sure?" Hawkeye asked.

"The faster you take care of him, the faster—" She shot a look at B.J., as if wondering how much he knew. But B.J. was good at looking innocent.

Hawkeye focused on the shoulder wound as well as he could, but he was remembering confiding in B.J. that he and Margaret had gotten together in the hut. He didn't exactly kiss and tell, no details. That was how it was with him and B.J. He phrased it as "We were scared and lonely and we turned to each other."

It had been harder to admit to having felt something for her. He'd barely admitted that to himself. But B.J. was good at getting him to face his feelings. It was never like that with Trapper, who always said, "Listen, you want to confess something, go see Father Mulcahy." Not that Trapper was callous, he just didn't like to dwell on serious subjects.

If this had happened six months or more ago, before Trapper left, well, it couldn't have. Margaret was still with Frank then. And often as Hawkeye hit on her in the first year, he never really expected anything to happen. He'd have liked it to, but it would've just been sex. Now he wasn't so sure anymore. Anyway, he couldn't imagine having confessed to Trapper that Margaret had stirred something in him, let alone that he'd had this crazy after-the-fact impulse to have impregnated her. Of course, Donald hadn't yet entered the picture, so she wouldn't be pregnant.

Once the patient was in post-op, B.J. whispered, "I'll take care of him. You go to your tea party."

"Thanks, Beej." Hawkeye didn't have to say that he'd report the results later. However it turned out, he'd need to talk to B.J. about it. It would be easier than talking to Margaret, where so much had to remain unsaid.

She was impatient as he looked through the magnifying glass at the tiny ovaries. He couldn't help joking now, not to irritate her but to try to ease at least his own tension. What if it had been his sperm after all? After all, coitus interruptus wasn't full-proof, and he'd been in the process of coming when he pulled out. It was unlikely but not impossible that this was his baby, not Donald's. Or was that just wishful thinking?

Crazy, so crazy. He was the camp Lothario, hopping from nurse to nurse. The last thing he needed was a wife and baby, especially a wife like Margaret, who would try to change everything about him. Even in the depths of her next day's infatuation, she had remarked on his sloppiness, his unshaven chin. She was Army and he was anti-authority.

But, yes, he had felt something for her. And it wasn't just the primal urge to live, to commit the act that might create life. He had, despite himself, made love to her, not just made her. And when he'd kissed her and fingered her afterwards, thinking of how lovely she was, how much he wanted her to feel good and alive, whether or not they were about to die, well, it wasn't about getting lucky. She had a magnificent ass, but she wasn't just a piece of ass.

"Well?" she asked impatiently.

"Oh my God! This is incredible!"

"What? What?" she demanded.

"I never knew my thumb was this big."

He teased her a little longer and then reported the results: negative. Margaret was thrilled. He said he was glad it turned out the way she wanted it to. He couldn't help it, he added, "I'm also sorry." And he was. He was relieved for her sake. And she would stay in the Army, stay in the 4077th. They wouldn't have to say goodbye. But he still felt a sense of loss, maybe because this meant that she wasn't carrying new life in this land of death.

As if it had just hit her, she said, "So am I."

He patted her hand and left everything else unsaid.


	5. Human Test

Margaret had a strange dream after she found out she wasn't pregnant, but when she woke she knew exactly why she'd had it. After the results of the rabbit test had sunk in a little, so that she felt both relief and grief, she went and thanked Radar for the sacrifice of Fluffy's ovaries. And he said he knew she'd do the same for Fluffy.

So there she was, lying on an operating table, as Bongo the bunny, assisted by Fluffy, both of them about six feet tall, removed her ovaries. Radar was himself, except that he sounded like Jimmy Stewart. Then Bongo waved a carrot like a cigar and, sounding like Hawkeye imitating Bugs Bunny imitating Groucho Marx, said, "Say the secret woid, and the human won't die."

She didn't know whether to laugh or cry when she woke. She wondered what Sidney Freedman would think. Well, sometimes a carrot is just a carrot.

This was what she wanted, to not be pregnant. Nothing had to change. She could stay in the Army. She could stay at the 4077th. She did laugh now, thinking of how Klinger probably would've been happy to get pregnant if it meant he could go home.

And yet, she wished the circumstances were such that she could've been happy to be pregnant. If she hadn't been disillusioned with Donald. If she could've somehow kept working as a nurse. Maybe someday she could be pregnant and be happy about it.

She thought of how she had confided in Hawkeye, told him first rather than, say, the fatherly Colonel Potter. Hawkeye called himself her worst nemesis, but he wasn't. Oh, maybe in the beginning, but not for months. And she hadn't told him because he'd been, for one night anyway, her lover. She told him because he was her friend, the one person in camp she was most herself with. And because he was the best damn surgeon she'd ever met.

She knew he would run the test for her. He managed to get Fluffy for her, even if it meant that crazy microsurgery to keep the doe alive. He was the one she trusted most, even though in some ways she didn't trust him at all. She was glad he was the one to tell her the results, to understand how she felt, even if they couldn't say everything that needed to be said.

Or maybe it could be. She thought of how he'd come to her five weeks ago, after pushing her away, acting like spending time with her had been a nightmare, and not just because of the North Koreans.

"I don't think anything could ever come of it because we're so different, but something happened to us out there. Both of us. Maybe we cared for each other more than either of us would like."

Instead of admitting it, she pretended that she remembered nothing. Still, she'd let him stay and she even read him the "Dear Hank" letter she'd composed to send to Donald. She'd written it for revenge, but now it was a way to tell Hawkeye a little of what she felt, how he'd "given his warmth and his caring when she was afraid." She'd ended up not mailing the letter. These weren't really things she wanted Donald to know. She wasn't even sure if she'd tell him about the pregnancy scare. Not until and unless they'd worked out their differences.

Tonight she wanted to go talk to Hawkeye. It wasn't that late. Almost midnight. Charles had the night shift this week, and B.J. might tease but he'd also make himself scarce. She didn't know how much B.J. knew. She wouldn't have been surprised if Hawkeye had confided in him. It wouldn't have been locker room talk, like it would've been with Trapper. Hawkeye seemed to have grown up a little since then, maybe due to B.J. Not that Hunnicutt couldn't be immature. There were times when he and Hawkeye acted like they were still in puberty. But B.J. had a serious, respectful side that Trapper lacked.

Even if Hawkeye hadn't told him about the night in the hut, or her pregnancy scare, B.J. might've guessed at least the former. He could be very observant sometimes. And he knew his buddy well. Did he know Margaret? Not as well as Hawkeye but more than Charles did.

She got dressed and quietly made her way to the Swamp. She didn't know what she'd say to Hawkeye. Maybe just thank you. Maybe more.

But when she reached Hawkeye's tent, she saw him kissing and embracing someone. She wondered which of her nurses it was. And then she stepped closer and caught a glimpse of B.J.'s face, his eyes shut in pleasure! Then B.J. pulled away and the lights went out.

What did this mean? If it were just a hug, well, both men were warm and affectionate. And they were close, in some ways closer than Hawkeye had been to Trapper. Trapper was Hawkeye's partner in crime but they never seemed to be serious, even with each other.

Kissing, two men kissing! She should've been revolted, but in the brief glimpse she caught, they were beautiful! No, that wasn't the right word, but neither was "handsome." Well, they were individually handsome, Hawkeye with his devil-black hair and teasing blue eyes, B.J. with his big grin and his sweet blue eyes. Both very tall, like Trapper, who had been more obviously sexy. She'd lusted after strapping, curly-haired Trapper sometimes, but she never really wanted to talk to him.

And now she couldn't talk to Hawkeye. She could hardly knock and interrupt whatever interlude he was having with B.J. B.J.! Not just a man but a married man. Well, OK, Margaret was married, too, but on the outs with Donald, while everyone knew how much B.J. adored Peg.

How long had this been going on? Was it going on the night Hawkeye was inside her? Oh, this was ridiculous! Jealous of B.J.! It wasn't like Hawkeye hadn't been with dozens of nurses and other women. But this was different. She'd noticed the tender way that Hawkeye stroked the face that turned out to have stubble.

She felt more foolish than ever to have wanted, even for a moment, to have a child with Hawkeye. Whatever he had with B.J. probably meant more than whatever he had with her.

She turned to go back to her tent and then heard, "Margaret?"

She turned around again. B.J. was in his bathrobe, a towel around his neck. "Isn't it a little late for a shower?"

He shrugged. "Less crowded this time of night. Unless you were going to take one?" If it were Hawkeye, that would be an invitation. But this was B.J., Peg's 100% faithful husband.

"No, thank you. I mean, no, I'm just going for a walk."

"Nice night for it," he said, glancing up at the cloudless sky, the full moon.

"Yes." She hesitated and then stepped closer to whisper, "Did Hawkeye tell you?" She wasn't sure if she was asking about the night in the hut or about her pregnancy scare.

"No, I saw for myself how nice the night was." That dry sense of humor, dryer than Hawkeye's, since Hawkeye was always on, like a professional comedian, while B.J. was the one you didn't expect to be funny. 

"Yes, seeing is believing," she said.

"Except when you don't see the whole picture and believe the wrong thing."

Did he know she'd seen him kissing Hawkeye? Did he think she was spying? Or was this about her pregnancy scare, where she, a trained nurse, had misread the symptoms? Or was it about that night in the hut, which she'd seen so differently from Hawkeye? And how did B.J. view all this?

"Well, I see enough that I'm going for a walk. Have a good shower, Hunnicutt."

"Thanks, Houlihan."


	6. 39729966

The baby, if there had been one, would've been about nine months old. Erin had recently had her second birthday, which B.J. had hoped to be home for but had had to miss. He'd be home soon though, home to Peg and Erin. As for Hawkeye and Margaret, well.

She was leaving the Army after all. Her marriage to Donald was over so she might never have a baby. But maybe she could have a more balanced life, at a hospital stateside.

It was time for goodbyes. Klinger was staying in Korea, to help his bride locate her family. His second wife wore his old wedding gown. Klinger had autographed a picture of himself in Scarlett O'Hara garb, so B.J. could show it to Erin someday.

Father Mulcahy was gone, having lost some of his hearing and a little of his idealism, but he remained mostly intact.

And now Charles was kissing Margaret's hand.

B.J. called out, "Hold on to that arm, Charles. We want to kiss it, too."

Hawkeye said, "You take the arm, I've got dibs on what's left."

B.J. smiled and remembered the previous Halloween. Margaret had dressed like a geisha, making Hawkeye joke he was in love. At least B.J. had assumed Hawkeye was joking, although you could never be too sure.

Margaret told B.J., completely sincerely, "I hope someday I find someone like you." She must've known he wasn't the perfect husband he wished he were. But he'd been a better husband than Donald anyway.

"I hope so, too. You deserve the best."

She laughed and gave him a big hug. She also gave him a light peck on the cheek. He held her hand a few moments after the hug ended. She was a very special woman and he was glad he'd met her.

Then it was Col. Potter's turn. They'd always been like father and daughter, which she'd needed because her own father was so cold and emotionally distant. Potter's kiss was on the forehead.

When he stepped away, she looked over at Hawkeye, who was gazing at her. Hawk hesitantly said, "So, uh, listen."

She replied, "Yeah, uh."

B.J. thought of how these two had never had trouble talking when they were mad at each other, but they were never good with the positive emotions, not with each other. And this wasn't a time when Hawkeye could banter or playfully grab her and kiss her, like he'd told B.J. he used to in the "Hot Lips" days.

But then they stepped towards each other and wrapped their arms around each other. Maybe there were better ways to say goodbye than in words.

As Hawkeye and Margaret kissed and kissed and kissed, B.J., Potter, and Charles stood around awkwardly. The other two averted their eyes, Charles taking refuge in the book he was giving to Margaret, but B.J.'s eyes kept wandering over to the kissing couple. He wasn't exactly an innocent bystander. Potter and Charles probably knew, or at least guessed, some of what was between Hawkeye and Margaret, but B.J. knew things for sure, even without Hawkeye kissing and telling all.

And part of him wished he could give Hawkeye a big kiss like that. He had his own way of saying goodbye, but for once he wished he could do a public display.

At last Hawkeye and Margaret parted. He said, "Well, so long," and she said, "See ya," although they might never meet again. At least, Hawkeye probably thought they never would. He had told B.J. that they'd likely never see each other, living on two different coasts. And B.J. was going to make more of an effort to keep in touch than Margaret presumably would.

And then she was gone. Charles left right after. The goodbyes with Winchester were less warm, but in a way B.J. would miss him, too.

Col. Potter departed on Sophie, the horse who was a gift from Radar, who'd gone home a year ago. She would be left at the orphanage that Father Mulcahy helped out at, since Potter couldn't take her back to Missouri. And then the colonel would get a lift from a Jeep. This goodbye was heartfelt but not "gooey," as Hawkeye would put it. No hugs, just salutes.

There were still enlisted men packing up, like Roy Goldman, but of the people who B.J. had been close to in Korea, all that remained was Hawkeye, the first person that he'd met from the 4077th. It had been a long, crazy two years since.

Again, Hawkeye was at a loss for words, and B.J. didn't find it any easier than Margaret had. Then he offered Hawkeye a motorcycle ride up to the chopper. B.J. had his suitcase and the "San Francisco" part of the sign-post, but there was room for Hawkeye in back. B.J. wished he could take him all the way home, rather than a few yards up the hill. Hawkeye's hands were around B.J.'s waist and they felt good there.

B.J. braked the motorcycle and they both climbed off. B.J. took off his hat, not caring about the gentle wind on the hill.

Hawkeye spoke first, "Look, I know how tough it is for you to say goodbye, so I'll say it. Maybe you're right. Maybe we will see each other again. But just in case we don't, I want you to know how much you've meant to me. I'll never be able to shake you. Whenever I see a big pair of feet or a cheesy mustache, I'll think of you."

B.J. knew the first, "gooey" part, was sincere, but it was the old insults that brought B.J. close to tears. He remembered Hawkeye joking when B.J. first grew the mustache, "I've never kissed someone with whiskers before. Well, there was that one Russian girl in med school."

As for the feet, he especially remembered Hawk teasing him last Halloween, when B.J. dressed as a clown. B.J. had almost said, "Well, your big ego makes Superman the perfect costume for you," but he resisted.

He now said, "Whenever I smell month-old socks, I'll think of you."

Hawk mentioned the time B.J. nailed Hawk's shoes to the floor, so B.J. said the martinis had tasted like lighter fluid. The still had gotten them through some rough times, but it had never produced anything with a delightful flavor or a delicate bouquet. Yet, for one moment, B.J. wanted another night in the Swamp.

"I'll miss you," Hawk said, dropping the jokes and insults.

"I'll miss you. A lot. I can't imagine what this place would've been like if I hadn't found you here." Of course, Hawk had found him, while looking for Trapper. And it must've been meant to be, because when Hawkeye showed him Capt. Tuttle's file, explaining how "we all made him up together," B.J. was shocked to see that Tuttle's serial number was 39729966, B.J.'s serial number! B.J. never told Hawk that, any more than he'd told him what his initials really stood for. Any more than he'd told him in those exact words, "I love you, Benjamin Franklin Pierce."

B.J. and Hawk wrapped their arms around each other. They didn't kiss, not with the helicopter pilot waiting. But Hawkeye put his hand on the back of B.J.'s head, as if trying to communicate right into his brain, or maybe as if trying to keep B.J.'s head together, as he had so many times figuratively. 

And then Hawk pulled away and ran for the chopper. B.J. put on his hat, got on the motorcycle, and revved up. He and Hawk looked at each other before leaving.

B.J. grabbed the San Francisco sign and waved it. "I'll see you back in the States, I promise. But just in case, I left you a note."

Hawkeye couldn't hear him over the motors. But he'd see it soon enough. B.J. had made the note hard to miss. They waved goodbye and then B.J. drove downhill, almost wiping out along the way, but finding his balance again. He'd have plenty of time to reminisce on the way to Seoul.

He thought of how he'd gotten up very early that morning and, with the help of Roy, Igor, and Rizzo, he'd arranged stones to spell out "GOODBYE." He wanted it to be one of the last things Hawkeye saw at the 4077th, but he didn't want to be there when Hawk saw it. B.J. really would've started crying then.

...

They did get together in the States. B.J., Peg, and Erin had Christmas in Maine, over a year after the goodbyes. Dr. Daniel Pierce said there was plenty of room in the big old house and he was thrilled to meet his son's best friend from the War. And they'd missed the wedding, so B.J. wanted to be there to tease Margaret about her pregnancy.

"We'd name it after you, Beej, but first you'd have to tell us your real name," Hawk said.

"He won't even tell me that," Peg said.

She was joking, but there was a lot that B.J. would never tell. Sometimes sins of omission are the right ones.


End file.
